


Parapraxis

by fairytaleweaver



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dream Sex, Dreams, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-07 00:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytaleweaver/pseuds/fairytaleweaver
Summary: The shame of such fantasies follow him like a ghost.





	Parapraxis

**Author's Note:**

> Parapraxis: (n.) A slip of the tongue or pen or any other error thought to reveal unconscious wishes or attitudes.

_"Professor, I have a question regarding the maneuvers we discussed earlier."_

_She turns away from the chalkboard at the sound of his voice, the cleaning cloth still in her hand and chalk dust sprinkled across her clothes._

_"Ask away." She spoke directly, and although her tone was even, her voice somehow never sounded sweeter._

_"Regarding troop movements and organization in the evet of an ambush- I grasp it mostly, but there are some things I don't fully understand." A lie, one that he does not seem to be able to stop._

_"That one was rather complicated..." She agrees, moving over to where a map of a local area lay atop a table, motioning for him to follow._

_Somehow, he barely feels the movement at all._

_"See how in the simulation, the troops respond to the enemy movements by retreating to higher ground...." As she speaks, he can not help but steal a glance at her._

_The way her dark hair frames her face, a little layered and wild but beautiful. Like an untamed landscape, untouched by human hands. Wild, mysterious, but beautiful._

_He sidles up to her, pretending to want to get a better view of the map as she speaks. She doesn't seem to notice._

_Closer now, he steals another glance._

_This time he notices her eyes, clear, unwavering, but somehow holding great mystery. He can't help but wonder, if eyes are the window to the soul, how much of herself does even she know? His gaze drifts down to her lips, pink, pert, and he cannot help but find them mesmerizing._

_She moves slightly, brushing lightly against him and he can not help but inhale sharply. She then turns to him, a question on her face clear as day._

_"It is nothing." He stammers, moving back. "It's just that I finally understand the maneuver, thanks to your great teaching."_

_"Oh, really? Well, then, I'll run some scenarios by you."_

_"Try your worst, teacher!"_

_I will. And, should you get them all correct..." Her voice drops uncharacteristically low, her eyes dark and cheeks suddenly flushing, "...I'll be sure to reward you...."_

* * *

Ferdinand shot up in bed, his hair tousled and clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

What.... what sort of depraved dream was that? He was disgusted with himself, he, Ferdinand von Aegir, having such unsavory thoughts, and for his own professor no less! Even worse, a professor he's only known for two weeks now.

Even as he thinks that, his mind flashes to the image of her lips whispering suggestively. Even just the thought alone leaves his heart thudding in his chest. Mortifying.

Yet, even as he thinks about it, the feelings he gets from the dream are not at all unpleasant ones. Part of him wishes the dream had continued.

He. He needs a bath.

* * *

She's received a new uniform, courtesy of the monastery. Rumor has it that her old clothes had drawn improper student attention (not that he'd know anything about that, haha) and so Seteth had intervened.

Not that it helps. Her new uniform is a whole different type of appealing. Like this, she looks even less like a professor and more like a student. The cute headband, the skirt, the calf high socks....

She's... adorable, really.

She's speaking with Marianne for some reason, the two of them admiring one of the knights horses. He can hardly blame them, those horses are magnificent, however, he finds that it is not the horses that he's admiring.

Argh, what is wrong with him?

A gentle breeze passes by, and he can't help but notice the way her hair flutters. How she reflexively reaches up to tuck the loose strands behind her ear. Such a normal course of action, and yet, he's struck by how graceful he finds it.

This is madness.

He forces himself to look away.

Despite that, he finds his gaze drifting over to her more than it really should.

* * *

_The roaring of the nearby waterfall drowns out the sounds of battle below._

_They had gotten separated from the rest of the class during the battle, and now, when it was just the two of them, they had been jumped._

_Between the two of them, they've taken almost all of the bandits out- save for the two they are still locked in combat with._

_Ferdinand's axe sinks into the enemy's shoulder and he feels his opponent's collarbone snap from the pressure. Following through with his strike, he carves a chunk out of the enemy, splattering blood and viscera onto the foliage._

_He turns in time to see her dart forward and slice the enemy cleanly open._

_Despite the blood and carnage that decorate them both, he can't but feel that she's truly a sight to behold on the battlefield._

_Regardless, though, the two of them are very much separated from the others. And, it would be foolish and reckless to head off on their own._

_He is about to suggest that they go to rejoin the class when she starts making her way towards the pool at the base of the waterfall, dropping her sword on the ground as she did so._

_"Professor?"_

_Her back turned to him, he can only watch as her clothes slide down her body. A strange tightness in his throat, an odd weight in his lower abdomen._

_She turns to him as her clothes pool around her ankles and he doesn't dare look down-_

* * *

"Ferdinand, you feeling ok?" Caspar's voice is layered with concern. On a normal day, one in which he had plenty of sleep the night before, he would be touched.

But today, now, he figures his apparent exhaustion is a good a punishment as any for his debauchery.

From the edges of his sight, he can see the professor talking with Edelgard. The vision of her bare skin flashes through his mind and he forces himself to look away.

"I feel fine, why do you ask?" He responds, keeping his tone light. His answer doesn't seem to convince Caspar, but Caspar doesn't seem to notice the professor either. Good.

No one can ever know.

"It's just, you look kind of tired." Caspar awkwardly glances away, his eyes scanning the ceiling above them in the dining hall.

Despite logic warning him against it, he steals another glance while he has the chance.

She nods and her conversation with Edelgard seems to end, and then, she turns and looks directly at him. He quickly shifts his gaze back to Caspar to pretend he wasn't staring.

"Ah, a, uh, minor inconvenience. I'll be fine." Ferdinand feels the words escape him before he can stop himself.

She's moving towards them, and, rather like a prey, he feels the urge to flee.

"Huh, if you say so."

* * *

_He's in the courtyard._

_He is not sure how he has got himself to this point, but his arms are wrapped around her- one of his hands cupping the back of her head and the other of her waist- her arms are wrapped around him- one on his back, pressing him closer, and the other at the base of his head, in his hair._

_Somehow, for some reason, she's kissing him. And, he's kissing her back._

_She's pressed up against him, as close as she can. He can feel the soft, pleasant feeling of her breasts on his chest. Her body quite toned from a lifetime of fighting. She smells like running water, flowers, and tea leaves..._

* * *

The lesson later that morning is nothing short of torture.

Paying attention is especially difficult on the mornings of the days he dreams of her, but he always makes an effort to act as if she isn't haunting his dreams. The fault is not hers that he is having such impure thoughts, but his alone.

His gaze settles on her long, shapely legs and he forces himself to look upwards. She's saying something, probably something important, that he should be listening to, but instead he finds himself fascinated by her lips.

Are her lips are really as soft as they were in his dreams?

Ugh, he really shouldn't be thinking of his own teacher in this way. It was rude to her, and not to mention beyond improper. And yet, he can not say that he hates those dreams.

The shame of such fantasies follows him like a ghost.

* * *

_The dining hall is abandoned at this time of night, so he's quite puzzled on why the professor insists that they cook together now._

_She is behind him, her arms wrapped around him, her head is on his shoulder, her breath warm on his ear. Her body warm and soft on his back, yet secure, grounding him to this spot._

_"Yes, that’s the right way." She whispers, her hands on his chest, moving down to his stomach._

_He's not sure what he's making, or what exactly he's even doing- he's too preoccupied with the way her hands feel on him, her breath against his ear, the warmth of her body pressed up against his...._

_"Good work..." She whispers, her hands moving, unbuttoning the top of his pants. His heart thudding in his chest, a flush of heat to his cheeks and groin._

_His hands are doing something with the utensils, and it can't possibly be safe to cook like this, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even know what he's cooking._

_"Excellent."_

_He feels her hand wrap around him-_

* * *

"I may not look like it, but I know how to cook. Not that I am very experienced."

If he's to ever receive punishment from the goddess, he is sure this is it.

He had agreed without thinking, a mistake on his part, but a noble never goes back on his word. So, here he is, standing adjacent to the professor, his mind going a mile a minute.

He's normally not a great chef, but today, today is somehow worse than normal. Not only has he managed to set the pan on fire, but he's nearly set himself on fire.

He's backing away from the mess on the stove when he hears her shout, and grab him from behind, effectively stopping him in his path.

His breath catches in his throat and he recalls her hands on him with sudden clarity. Would her touch feel as it had in his dream?

“Ferdinand?"

At some point, she released him and covered the fire with a lid. She's standing by the stove, a look of concern on her face- why does that make him happy- and he promptly realizes he's been standing there in a daze for what must have been at least a couple of minutes.

“Ferdinand, are you alright?" She asks him.

"Ah, yes, of course." His throat feels strangely thick. "I apologize, professor."

For so much more than she could ever know.

* * *

_Choir practice had ended a while ago, and the Cathedral had cleaned out for the evening._

_She is on her knees before him, his length in her mouth. Her hair brushing against the insides of his thighs through his uniform. One of his hands cupping the back of her head, the other grasping the armrest of the pew so firmly that his knuckles have turned white._

_This is certainly sacrilege. But, it feels amazing._

_She glances up at him through her eyelashes and he nearly loses himself. There's an urge to buck into her mouth but he suppresses it. As he does, he feels her hands on his knees, to steady herself._

_She seems to smile at him, rather odd considering their current position, and he feels what he only imagines could be her tongue-_

* * *

It seems that the goddess is definitely punishing him.

“Professor, let me sing for you! Do you not like my voice, it would make a Pegasus dance with joy!"

Singing and pushing those, unbecoming, thoughts out of his head is proving to be rather challenging. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

He's become quite adept at pushing his more unsavory thoughts out of his head, but this is...

To his right, he can hear Lorenz clearing his throat, saying something that he doesn't quite catch. It's not important, he just has to get through this without looking at her.

A voice, surprisingly melodic, catches his ear. It's not at all like Dorothea or Manuela's, nowhere near as refined, but a different, calmer tone. Regardless, it's still lovely.

He looks up to see her, her eyes closed, head bowed as she sings. His eyes immediately drawn to her mouth, his mind instantly going back into lewd places.

There's an uncomfortable tightness in his lower abdomen, but he ignores it. Even so, he can't stop the heat gathering on his face. Shameful.

He looks down before she can catch him staring.

Regardless, the memory of his dream isn't an unwelcome one.

* * *

_She's laying on her back on the library table, her knees over his shoulders. Her skirt up around her waist. He's on his knees before her, his face in between her thighs._

_He hardly believes it._

_The details are a little fuzzy, but he knows what he's doing- he's read about it before. Purely scientific, he had told himself, when Sylvain had gifted him a questionable novel and told him to "expand his horizons."_

_Judging by her reactions, she's enjoying this._

_She's not the only one._

_She's letting out breathy moans and shuddering gasps as she says his name like a mantra. Her body twitching against him, the occasional whine. He feels her hands in his hair, pushing him closer to her..._

* * *

There's a fire here in the common room, he could easily throw this damnable book of Slyvain's into it, and no one would be the wiser. Better than letting Seteth catch him with it, at any rate. He might be able to convince Seteth that Sylvain had given it to him, but he is at a loss on how to explain why he had kept it.

Before he can throw the offending item into the blaze, he hears someone walk into the room. Cursing his luck, he stashes away his naughty secret and turns to greet whoever has entered the room.

Of course it is her.

"Professor, how can I help you?"

He tries to keep a straight face, but he keeps seeing the her in his dreams in his mind's eye. He pushes the thought away and tries to focus on what she's saying.

If he's acting odd, she doesn't seem to notice.

His eyes drift down to her thighs for just a moment and his breath catches in his chest. The skirt of her uniform, the calf high stockings, all were exactly as they were in his dream.

"Ferdinand," She sounds as she always does, but it echoes in his head, over and over. "I found something, and I was wondering if it was yours?"

"Ah, well, what might it be?"

He tries to forget.

* * *

_The goddess tower is lovely at this time of night, but nowhere as near as a lovely sight as he has before him._

_She lay there on the stone, her clothes in disarray. Her blouse open, exposing her small clothes. Her skirt around her waist, her panties slung around one of her ankles. Her legs wrapped around his midsection, her face flushed and looking at him in anticipation._

Wait. This is a dream.

He has already spoke with her at the goddess tower, confided in her and asked for her support- after gathering the courage to finally talk with her about dreams.

And, of course, the goddess tower legend...

After such a intimate moment, is not going to let his runaway imagination taint the memory of such a lovely night.

Even as he thinks it_, the him within his dream doesn't stop._

_As he goes to move inside of her he feels his eyes snap open._

* * *

Thankfully, it seems his thoughts have calmed some for the past month. With all that has happened, he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself had his mind returned to those places.

The professor sees to be feeling better in recent days, but there are still times where she'll show up to class, eyes still red, remnants of tears on her cheeks.  
It heart aches to see her like this.

Hopefully, the knights will soon locate the villains responsible.

* * *

Her new hair and eye color are quite fetching on her, but he supposes at this point he'd think she'd look lovely regardless. But aside from that, she also seems somehow, more distant than before.

She's still their same professor, mostly taciturn with the occasional impish comments slipping through. The rare smile or laugh.

But, she somehow seems beyond them now.

* * *

_He awoke in his room, not at the academy, but all the way back at the Aegir estate. His windows are cracked open, the fresh, cool morning air gracing the room._

_And holding onto him, is the professor. Mouth parted slightly, her hair in disarray. He can feel her legs entangled with his, her head against his chest. Her hands on his back, pressing him against her like her life depended on it._

_This. This was not a bad way to wake up_.

* * *

His thoughts are too hectic for improper dreams now.

  
His father has been deposed- of course, Ferdinand knew the man sorely deserved it- and Edelgard has raised an army and declared war.

His ambitions, stole away. His goal, taken. All of his plans, gone.

And more than anything, the future is more uncertain than it's ever been.

And now, in two weeks, he'd fight.

* * *

This dream again.

_He is outside Garreg Mach, at dusk. Just as it had been on that day, five years ago. She's standing there on the edge of the cliff, her back to him._

Just out of reach.

By now he knows better than to approach the phantom in his dream. Should he approach, she would fall, and he would awaken. But if he hung back, and just simply watched her, she'd stay on the edge of the cliff until he woke up naturally.

_The wind plays with her hair and sleeves as the moments roll by._

_Soon, night's fallen._

_Her hair gives off a glow in the moonlight and she looks almost ethereal. It suits her._

_The sky is just beginning to lighten when, for the first time, the dream changes._

_Almost as if in slow motion, she turns around to face him. She looks exactly the same as she had five years ago. She smiles at him, and he feels a tightness in his chest._

_Byleth reaches out her hand_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> He's 18 in the Academy phase and do you know what that means? Hormones. 
> 
> I've been working on this on and off for a month and I'm sick of staring at it. It's a bit experimental and written entirely while I'm on the transit, so it is what it is.


End file.
